


Protection

by bonehandledknife (ladywinter), Primarybufferpanel (ArwenLune)



Series: The Mountains Are The Same [40]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Blood, Body Horror, Cunnilingus, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Max's head is a bad place, Mild Knifeplay, Multi, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 12:20:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5785120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladywinter/pseuds/bonehandledknife, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArwenLune/pseuds/Primarybufferpanel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Protection: Process of setting equipment or anchors for safety. Equipment or anchors used for arresting falls. Commonly known as Pro.</p><p>
  <i>"Put the knife away," she said, slow and clear like a command he couldn't help but follow. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Protection

Austeyr was heading back towards their table with Kompass, the both of them with bowls of food, when he saw Kompass pause, and veer off.

The other man stopped at another table and stared at one of the Mill Rats thoughtfully, forehead furrowed. A new Rat, by the looks of him, as not stringy like the older ones who’d been working on the mills for many hundred days under Joe.  Austeyr looked at Kompass in confusion, not certain why he’d stopped here, and truthfully the man looked uncertain.

“You... had been on standby, right?” Kompass asked.

“What's it to you,” the Mill Rat returned belligerently, shoulders stiff as if trying to make himself large. But it just made it look like he was trying to hunch away.

Kompass’ eyes tightened at the tone, but he seemed to toss it away from him with a brisk shake, straightening as he came to some decision. 

“ ‘Preciate it.” Kompas said. He dropped half a biscuit and an entire lizard on the Mill Rat’s plate. 

The other man flinched badly, and looked around at everyone. His table stared back at him. It’d reminded Austeyr somehow of their Wastelander for some undefinable way, even if smaller and muted.

“I didn’t do it for him— they, they didn’t even need me,” the twitchy man replied.

“I Witnessed it,” Kompass said gruffly, “you hadn’t needed to--”

“What’s going on?” Austeyr interrupted.

“For your lump cuttin',” looking suddenly awkward, Kompass waved at the man he’d been apparently trying to feed, “he was on standby. Realized it just now.”

_ A bloodbag _ , Austeyr finally understood, one that had probably been asked to volunteer, given how the new Tribunes were about these things. Like with the secondary breeders, the Tribunes had freed the bloodbags once they’ve arrived back at the Citadel. But unlike the breeders, the bloodbags had almost immediately disappeared into the Wretched. Apparently at least a couple had sought work with the Mill Rats. Hiding there instead.

Except this man had come forward, shedding his safety, to help him out. Austeyr hadn’t even thought about it, hadn’t even realized.

It had always seemed normal, that there should be bloodbags to provide what was needed from their bodies. Warboys gave their bodies to war for the Immortan, milk mothers their bodies for milk, bloodbags their bodies for blood. That was just how it  _ worked _ . None of them had ever really questioned it. Looking back on it now, Austeyr didn't know why not. Maybe they'd all been so focused on their own survival that it was easy to ignore them— 

Much like it had been easy to ignore the milk mothers, the breeders, the greenthumbs up top, and everyone else that’d been folded into. Into War. All these people that had been emptied into the Warboys so the Warboys could empty themselves for Joe.

It was too much. Austeyr took one of the lizards on his plate and dropped it on the twitchy man’s plate as well.

But he stared at it with the kind of wary confusion that made Austeyr’s stomach squirm. 

And Austeyr recalled the look on Max’s face sometimes, when he was in Furiosa’s room, when they came up to him with food, when they sat near him. Like they were offering something to him and he couldn’t understand why it was given so freely. He recalled that Max had been a bloodbag too and he wondered with a sudden rage how much of Max’s madness was the wasteland, and how much more the madness was magnified by being at the service of the Organic Mechanic, being held at the Citadel, being bled into war boys.

It’d seemed awful, all of a sudden, to realize how much had been given up for them, but not by Joe, never by Joe. And staggering to realize how much fondness and faith Max must have for Furiosa to even make the effort to stay. 

Austeyr exchanged a glance with Kompass, and the other man’s face was understanding, and grim.

“What‘s your name?” Austeyr asked, because to be remembered they needed a name.

“Why?” The man asked, still with wariness.

“Don’t you want to be Recognized?”

The bloodbag looked at him like that was the worst possible thing, like it was a betrayal of some sort when all Austeyr wanted to do was to honor him.

“Come on,” Kompass muttered, and tugged them both to the crew’s tables. But he couldn’t help looking back.

The bloodbag was watching them go in that intense way people did when they didn't want to turn their backs on a threat.

* * *

 

“ I don’t get it,” Austeyr protested to Furiosa once they got to their table, “why wouldn’t he have wanted to be  _ known _ ? To be appreciated and admired?”

"Think about it, has being noticed by Warboys ever brought him much good?" She wasn’t sure exactly what the man had said to her crew, but she knew the idea of wanting to be forgotten and ignored would be foreign to the war boys. Furiosa turned her head to look thoughtfully at the mess hall entrance where Max was just walking in. “I don’t think it made it into the Tenday stories, but Max didn’t either. Didn’t tell me his name until… until maybe none thought I’d see another morning.”

There was a stunned pause as her crew looked between her and Max, and she wasn't sure how much of it was due to Max’s silence and how much to the mention of how near she’d wandered to Valhalla. They pressed in a little closer on the benches. 

Furiosa waited for some further reaction from them but they all seemed pensive, needing some time to think. The mealtime was one of the most silent in her memory. She glanced over at Ace’s table and found herself glad that the strangeness didn’t spread; him and his crew seem upbeat and rowdy. 

* * *

 

Ace tried to keep his face peaceful and his shoulders easy even though he was watching his crew rowdy themselves into crew bonds. At least this was going smooth; he still wasn't sure what was going on with Max. It was causing him no end of consternation and time wasted in thought.

The man had joined them soon After. After the world changed. After they had to find new ways to understand Furiosa, to fit together. The wasteland man had been wary of War Boys - he'd been a bloodbag, Aus said, so maybe that was understandable - but he'd grown used to them, hadn't he? He'd even slept soundly in the same room. He looked at Furiosa in the same way Ace knew they did, with a mix of awe and respect, was protective of her the same way.

But suddenly over the last few nights he'd sometimes leave to sleep elsewhere, and he knew it was upsetting Furiosa, who was clearly hoping he'd join their sexing, or at least sleep with them.   


It wasn't like there wasn't space on the mattress. They'd used to have many more than six.

The thing that stuck like a bone in the throat was that Max was clearly interested. Not everybody was, Ace had met enough Warboys who'd only traded paint with fellow Warboys, or had no interest at all. But Max watched Furiosa, when they sexed. Max watched with twitchy fingers that wanted to reach out, but didn't. Ace couldn't figure out why the man had been so direct as to lick her neck, that one time during dinner, and he could not have missed her reaction to that, but now wouldn't reach out. His gearstick worked, from the look of him when he watched them from his ledge. 

And since the Boss clearly hoped he would, Ace felt compelled to… well, he generally at least  _ tried  _ to give Furiosa what she wanted, so why not here?

* * *

 

He didn't even need to arrange much. Oti was running the new crew through some drills, and Ace was trying not to pressure by lookin' all the time. Rachet was assisting Miss Gale today, Kompass was training pups while Austeyr - four days since his lumps had been cut - assisted. Furiosa had wanted to spar, and Max and Ace had shared a look that said 'better go, at least we'll make sure she doesn't overdo it' and gone with her.

Maybe their worries had been overmuch, because since she'd been well enough again that Miss Gale agreed she could spar, she'd been acceptably careful with herself. Ace had gone a few slow rounds with her, given her a workout she'd clearly enjoyed, while Max had stretched and used some of the training things the warboys used to get stronger.   

Now the three of them were in her quarters, Max and Ace companionably cleaning weapons while Furiosa washed off the sparring sweat and dust in the little alcove. When she returned she was wrapped in her long length of drying cloth, looking like she was still a little flushed from the exercise.

She sat down next to him, the warm skin of her shoulder against his, and disassembled her pistol.

After a minute, Ace reached down to grab the whetstone and casually dragged the back of his thumbnail from her knee up to her thigh. He heard her breath hitch, saw the corners of her lips twitch into a smile.

She bent over her pistol cleaning with the kind of deliberate intent that suggested he was welcome to try to distract her.

_ Fine, Boss. Challenge accepted.  _ He knew sparring had made her feel good, her body finally beginning to respond as it ought to. Sparring made her feel strong, powerful. It always used to get her in the mood and apparently it still did.

He finished sharpening his belt knife, satisfied with the fine, smooth edge he'd put on it. Turned toward her and carefully drew the flat of the blade down her bicep, shaving some of the fine hair from her skin. Her breath hitched, and her hand stopped its work. Ace smiled and turned the knife, letting the side of the point drag lightly from her shoulder to her elbow. She shivered, her disassembled pistol forgotten for the moment, and he let the knife skip to her knee, letting the tip lightly trace the same path he'd made with his nail.

She sucked in a sharp breath, and Ace was vaguely aware of Max stopping his work, watching them with a mix of alarm and fascination.

"Put the knife away," she said, slow and clear like a command he couldn't help but follow. He put it to the ground on the far side of the mattress, picked up the various tools and let them join the knife. Then Furiosa put her hand in the back of his neck, and he knew where this was going, there had only ever been one option since the first touch, but it was the kind of grip that left no room for thought. A moment later he was on his stomach between her legs, and she was unwrapping the drying cloth from her hips, baring herself to him.

Then she picked back up her cleaning brush and continued the work on her pistol. Ace smiled against the soft skin of her inner thigh. He pressed his face to her curls and inhaled, grinning inwardly at the twin gasps he heard from her and from Max.

He knew what she liked, how she liked to be built up, and went to work, gently spreading her to lap at her folds. She managed to keep working on her pistol for a few minutes, though it sounded slow and not at all like her usually efficiency. At one point she slid her hand down his arm, seeking out his hand, and he thought she wanted to hold it - she sometimes did - but instead she pulled it up to her stomach to place the barrel in it so she could shove the cleaning rod down the bore.

He could hear a small choking sound from Max's side of the room. Ace raised his eyes to meet Furiosa's.

"That," he said, lifting his chin, "was rude."

She gave him a sharp, challenging grin, and he felt a swoop in his stomach, the old thrill of having her full focus on him like this.

_ Right _ .  

Clearly it was time to stop playing nice. He dove back in, and she gasped.

Soon she'd dropped her work, and he felt the restlessness in her hand as it roamed over his shoulders, his head. She didn't like feeling exposed while somebody licked her out, preferred bodies surrounding her, to lean against, to hold her, to anchor her, to shield her, to shove at.

Ace glanced up to see Max staring at her face, and made an impatient noise. What was he waiting for? Some elaborate invitation ritual? A Warboy saw a need for his help, he just jumped in.

Furiosa's nub landed on Ace's head and he chuckled as she pushed him back to where she wanted him. He went back to drawing breathless, needy little sounds from her, and then finally he heard shifting.

Max moved from his ledge to sit down next to Furiosa, and she drew him close against her side so she could lean. He looked a little.. Ace didn't know. The man clearly wanted to be there, had probably wanted for weeks, but looked like he wasn't sure he could really have this.

Ace tensed his tongue and teased her clit with tiny little circles, making her arch and shake. He worked two fingers into her and her thighs tightened around his head, and he moved to wrap his arms around them, giving himself space. She laughed breathlessly and clamped harder, and he always enjoyed this struggle between the three of them; her body, her mind, and him. Enjoyed feeling the power in her body, how strong she was and how whole. He growled against her and she gasped, jolting wildly, and then Max finally saw what was needed and drew her against his chest, anchoring there with a hand flat against her breastbone.

Ace hummed his approval and she let her head drop against Max's shoulder, letting out a long, breathy, decadent sound full of appreciation. He could feel her take off the brakes and let herself  _ go _ , knowing she was being held safe; it only took a few more hard licks, a few more curls of his fingers, for her to shake over the edge, hips bucking hard, body straining in Max's hold.   


Ace managed a few broad, soothing licks before she blindly groped for his head, grabbed hold of his ear with trembling fingers, and tugged him up. He grinned and crawled up so he could pillow his cheek against her stomach. Her grip on his ear relaxed and she petted idly at his head, breath still racing.

He let his hand drift over her legs, her stomach, caressing her as she calmed. When her skin began to chill, he pulled a light blanket over her and stretched out next to her, loosely cupping his hand around the elbow of her left arm.

Max had his lips against her temple, occasionally making pleased little humming sounds. He had both arms wrapped around her, and she still had her head tipped back onto his shoulder, her eyes now closed.

Ace didn't know if she was aware of it - he wouldn't put it past her - but between the sparring and the orgasm she was well on her way to falling asleep on the guy.

A few minutes later he heard the man make an awkward little 'uh' sound as he realised it too. Ace wondered if he wanted to leave again, like he'd done the past few nights.  

"Give it until she gets to the deep sleep," he advised softly, when he could feel the man getting antsy. "We can usually move her then."

The fool, as she called him, managed to stay still for just long enough for that to happen, and then was steady as they eased her down to the mattress. Furiosa sighed and murmured "Will you stay?" without really waking up, and the man froze. Then when Ace moved to grab the blankets tossed to the side, he felt a hand press down on his shoulder.

Max looked back at him steadily, clearly asking him to stay in Max’s place. When Ace glanced at Furiosa curled by herself on the mattress, sleepily searching for the warm body that had just disappeared, he found a blanket shoved into his hand.

It dawned on Ace that this was the other man asking him to take his place. Like a division of labour. Cuddling with Furiosa wasn't exactly an essential role if you asked Ace, she could sleep perfectly well on her own, but it was oddly endearing to realise the other man wanted her to have somebody next to her. He appreciated it was a new step for the Wastelander to ask for assistance. It was only afternoon, but one of the others would probably be happy to take his place by the time Ace himself got restless. 

Ace hoped however that Max wouldn’t take this as an excuse to slip out and stew in his own feralness. 

“Bettin’ she’d like you to be here when she wakes, I’m thinkin’.” He said, eyeing him calmly, “wouldn’t mind it, my own self.”

The man couldn’t seem to meet his eyes.

By the time he’d stretched out next to the Boss and draped the blanket over them both, Max was already sketching restless jerky circles around the room. He’d sometimes pause at the window, and from there his gaze would skitter towards them. Once he’d circled around and dropped a fresh canteen of aqua-cola closer to his reach. Another time he’d made a restless spiral as he picked up the half-cleaned gun and finished it off while walking, and tucked it under the edge of the mattress.

He’d pause, sometimes, head tilted as if listening, and during these times too his gaze would not focus until it landed back on Furiosa.

The fool settled eventually back on his cushion on the windowsill, half an eye trained on the land surrounding the Citadel, half an eye trained on the door to their room.

Ace didn’t know what it said about him that he was starting to find it reassuring. He thought that Max might stay this time.

* * *

 

Rachet followed Austeyr into the room. Nearly crashed into the other man when he halted right past the doorway.

“Wh—”

“Shhh,” Aus hissed at him, and pointed towards the mattress.

_ Oh, Boss’ sleeping _ . Ace was with her, and he nodded towards the window ledge where the man from the wasteland sat. Austeyr went over quickly enough, but Rachet hung back and carefully closed the door. 

Max looked up at them a bit awkwardly and shrugged at their looks, and when the displaced air hit his nose Rachet blinked because he  _ knew that scent _ . He looked over at Ace and Furiosa on the mattress, at the way the Boss's body was curled languid and heavy against Ace, and interrupted into Aus’ ramble.

"Helped sex up the Boss?" he whispered as they settled around the man with their evening meal.

"Oh hey, yeah," Aus said, with a look at Furiosa. "Was wondering when you'd be up for that."

Max’s eyes narrowed, glancing at them both with the impression of having his back up against a wall.

"She's smiling in her sleep." Austeyr simply shoved against the man’s shoulder, “Like we don’t know she prefers to have at least two involved. Hey, pass me the biscuits.”

Rachet distributed the mealworm biscuits Miss Gale had given him, still looking at Max. The man remained tense, but finally accepted the biscuit Rachet offered him, nibbling on it uneasily.  

“You don’t _have_ to, you know,” Rachet said, because Max looked.. Rachet wasn't sure. Not like people usually did after nice sexin'. But he wasn’t exactly shocky or shut down either, like warboys would sometimes be after a Use from one of the other Imperators. He was not really sure what the man was even thinking and figured it couldn't hurt to ask. Austeyr could interpret the grunts for them.

“ Boss is pretty adamant about that,” Aus agreed. " _ Only if you want _ . We had some crew who didn't." Then he continued leadingly, “but you seemed...?”

Max grunted with agreement, an unwilling and uncertain huff of air. 

Austeyr nodded and hummed in reply. Max looked longingly at the door. 

“Is there anything…” Rachet couldn’t help asking, and he had to ask because he couldn't make sense of this, “Do you need— I mean. You don’t seem settled.” Just a bunch of contradictions and none that he could figure out how to make work.

The man just shook his head and concentrated on his meal and Rachet hadn’t felt this frustrated since Furiosa first got heartsick. He just wanted to fix this. 

Maybe they should get together, make him a new brace? But Max’s looked like it was functioning. 

Austeyr opened and closed his mouth several times as if he didn’t know what to say, and that worried Rachet. It rarely happened.

“You’re welcome here, y’know,” stumbled out of Rachet’s mouth, “You're crew. We trust you.”

Max’s shoulders rose up around his ears a little, which was generally a bad sign. Rachet looked at Austeyr helplessly because he didn’t know why his shoulders were doing that thing, but the lancer looked just as confused.

They finished up and got ready for bed silently, giving Max silent pats on the shoulder as they handed him some extra cushions for his perch on the ledge, and eventually the man went to sleep. 

* * *

 

He’d drifted awake some time ago with the moonlight. They both did.

Furiosa watched him steadily until he went to her, magnetized. She looked up at him, eyes shining with excitement, the gleam of them reflecting the blade he was holding up for her to see, in question. Her eyes caught on it, followed it, and there was a kind of bright intensity to her that almost took his breath. He thought she said yes, and could he, and go on, except her lips didn’t speak. Her eyes did though, he guessed, he felt?

"Better not move," Max told her, leaning his free hand down on her shoulder, keeping her pinned in place with his hand and his hips. 

She grinned fiercely, eyes fixed on his as he lowered the blade to the side of her neck, lightly trailed it down the soft skin below her ear, down along her collarbone. She shivered, muscles going still and soft. Relaxing. Trusting him to do this, and he— he couldn’t wrap his head around— it was too  _ much _ —

His cock pulsed with the idea of it, that he could do this, wield this much power and be safe, be trusted. She sighed as he lightly, so lightly trailed the tip of the knife down to her breast. 

Her nipple drew into a tight bud, and his hand trembled, and then—

Blood.

It was a tiny drop, but he drew back in horror. Her eyes were wide and staring at him, and the cut grew larger because he couldn’t stop pressing down, breaking skin like the surface of a bubble, and the tension against his knife was  _ satisfying _ . The blood kept flowing, growing with great pulses, more than a body could hold, until his whole vision was red with it and her face smeared with it, twisted with hurt and that look in her eyes—

He woke up, gasping, and scrambled off the ledge, sending a water bottle to the floor. He couldn't even care if any of the warboys woke up as he fled the room.  The moon was high.

When Max hit the hallway, he headed towards where Kompass had pointed out Ace’s room. Ducked in, closed the door, and backed against it. Shaking.

He eventually found himself sitting.

He wasn’t sure how he got there.

* * *

 

Ace woke up a little, in that muddled way of newly not-unconscious, as Furiosa shifted in his arms.

“...Max?” he heard her ask. 

"It's me, Boss," he murmured, like he'd done so many times before. She turned and laid her head on his shoulder, arm curling over his chest. 

"Mmm. Not the boss of you 'nymore," she sighed against his neck. He chuckled and stroked her back until he fell back asleep. 

* * *

 

Max avoided the bed in the empty room, eventually settled on the window ledge with his back to the side wall. He kept seeing her face before him. 

He had seen the shade of that look only once before, in the morning before the women prepared to kill themselves riding off into the Salt. He knew that they were going to their deaths and she knew it too, and she looked at him like she’d expected no less of him.

But had hoped for more.

He didn’t know how to be more. How to wipe the disappointment from her face. 

He knew how to survive. 

And that was by disappearing.


End file.
